


play me rough

by willowcabins



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alley Sex, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:39:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4434134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowcabins/pseuds/willowcabins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is an oil slick a meter and a half behind Root, all darks interspersed with winding rainbow colours; this is what Shaw tries to concentrate on instead of Root’s eyes, large pupils rimmed with light brown as she looks up at Shaw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	play me rough

There is something desperate about the way Root pushes her against the wall, something painful about the metallic taste in Root’s mouth as she moves her lips against Shaw’s, something terrifying about her _need_ for Shaw. But for some reason, Shaw doesn’t balk, and she doesn’t pull away; she feels an echo of the emotion in her ribcage, buried by dust and fear. An unused emotion that she hadn’t touched until now, but one she is sinking into. The brick wall is rough through her thin t-shirt as she tries to deepen her kiss with Root. Root pauses and pulls back, her nails curling into the flesh at Shaw’s hip, registering her discontent. Shaw smirks as a small thrill pool at the bottom of her spine as Root disengages herself entirely and

“Hold still,” Root purrs, though there is an edge of metal in her tone. Shaw gulps, but breathes out steadily and stares into those wide eyes. Root’s palm is sweaty and hot against her check, but Shaw doesn’t mind. She leans forward slowly and carefully, lightly, grazes her lips across Shaw’s. Nothing else touches; it’s just a small, gentle kiss. Root pauses and pulls away slightly, and suddenly Shaw is hyperaware of the air between them, currents of breath eddying between them. Root leans forward again, kissing Shaw again; this kiss is slower, longer, and Shaw gasps against it. Root’s hand pushes aside the fabric on Shaw’s hip, resting her hot sticky hand on bare flesh. Shaw shivers against her, and feels Root’s muscles tense with each breath. Root uncontrollably _wants_ Shaw, and Shaw can practically feel the heat bleed into her, and she shivers.

Root nips at Shaw’s jaw, and then her neck, while her thumb rubs circles into the bare skin on Shaw’s hip. Shaw makes a quiet sound of approval in the back of her throat as Root runs her tongue along Shaw’s collarbone at the base of her throat. She pushes her hips against the wall more firmly, trying to quell her immanent desire. It’s dark, and the alleyway is quiet, but they _are_ in New York City, so it’s only temporary.

The orange glow of the streetlamp reflects off Root’s hair for a moment as Root’s hand left Shaw’s hip trailed over to her crotch. Shaw gasps quietly as Root traces the seams of Shaw’s jeans; despite how light the touch is, it reverberate through her any way. Root drops down to her knees carefully and undoes Shaw’s zipper as Shaw breathes in quietly. Shaw looks up at Shaw as she runs her hand along the top of the jeans and then carefully peals them down, exposing Shaw’s brown skin to the humid New York heat. Shaw shivers despite herself as her pants pool at her ankles, and Root carefully traces Shaw’s legs. There is something arresting and starkly beautiful of Root’s pale hand on Shaw’s brown skin, and Root smiles up at her possessively, before she leans forward and leaves a wet kiss on Shaw’s knee. She carefully runs her hand up Shaw’s thigh, and then pulls herself forward, leaving small nips on Shaw’s exposed skin. The little wet bruises react to the slightest breeze, stirring the eddies of hot air around Shaw, and she shivers as Root runs her teeth along Shaw’s leg. Her incisors are sharp enough to draw attention to themselves, and Shaw feels intensely aroused. Before she can say anything, though, Root sits back on her haunches and looks up at Shaw.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” she admits with a smirk. Shaw tilts her head and raises an eyebrow

“Fuck in an alleyway?” She rasps, her voice matching her feeling more than her demenour.

“Make you scream,” Root corrects, scooting closer to Shaw again, “in an alleyway,” she adds as she gently bites down on Shaw’s thigh. Shaw’s knees buckle for the tiniest second, and Root grins up at Shaw from between her legs. Shaw can’t hold Root’s gaze; it’s full of something too close to tenderness, and it makes Shaw’s chest tighten. Before she can think about it too much though as Root puts her mouth to good use between Shaw’s legs. Shaw’s nails dig into the brick next to her as Root hums happily into her, the vibrations of her contentment triggering minor earthquakes in Shaw’s bones. Shaw’s nails dig into the brownstone, and she feels the little specks of sand dig into her nails as Root’s hands slide higher, gripping her thigh. Root flicks her tongue lightly, and Shaw lets out a quiet gasp that _might_ have sounded like a squeak. Root chuckles and tilts her head, leaning her hair against Shaw’s thigh. The soft brush of hair sparks of tiny electrical currents in Shaw’s leg, and she shivers again. Suddenly, the lack of stability is irksome, and she grabs Root’s head. Root leans into the hand happily, though she doesn’t stop her ministration.

Shaw blinks heavily, and tries to look away from Root, trying to even her breathing; she tries to force her muscles to relax, and almost succeeds, until Root shifts just the slightest, and a lightning bolt shoots up Shaw’s spine. Her heart is a rushing sound in her ear, so Shaw tries to focus on the brick wall in front of her as she curled her fingers deeper into Root’s hair, encouraging her on. The wall has a faded advertisement on it, but before she can complete the thought Root deftly shoulders Shaw’s thigh, pushing her up the wall, and making Shaw cry out undeniably.

“That doesn’t count,” Shaw rasps, surprised by the tenor of her own voice. Root just hums, but Shaw knows it’s in disagreement. She clenches her jaw, but doesn’t argue, instead focusing on the faded advertisement, or is it a sign, close to the dead end. The script is faded, but Shaw thinks she can make out a dollar sign in it, maybe a K. These are the details Shaw tries to focus on instead of the warm velvet drag on Root’s tongue, the vibrations that seem to reach all the way into her gut as Root hums quietly in pleasure. Root digs her nails into Shaw’s bare thigh, pulling her impossibly closer, and Shaw whimpers. There is an oil slick a meter and a half behind Root, all darks interspersed with winding rainbow colours; this is what Shaw tries to concentrate on instead of Root’s eyes, large pupils rimmed with light brown as she looks up at Shaw. Shaw can’t help herself; she holds Root’s gaze and shudders against her; the flame that had wound around her spine explodes like a firework, and Shaw cries out Root’s name as Root pushes Shaw further, fanning the flame by ever so lightly skims her teeth over Shaw’s clit. Shaw’s thighs close around Root’s face as she convulses against the wall, arching into the pleasure. She hisses Root’s name again, the electricity pushing outwards again with another, shorter pulse, that still shatters through her. She slowly unclenches her thighs, and Root lightly kisses Shaw’s thigh with a wet mouth, before disengaging herself with a smirk.

“See?” she murmurs, picking herself up from the ground and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Told you I could do it.” But Shaw doesn’t care; Root’s hair on her left said is sticky and damp, and on the right its badly mussed up, and for some reason Shaw is overwhelmed with raw desire. She grabs Root’s hand. “Come on,” she whispers, her voice still hoarse. She wanted Root, but there was no way _she_ was kneeling in an alleyway in the middle of New York City. God _knows_ what had happened here.

 


End file.
